


new year's kiss

by hatsuna



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fireworks, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, literally so cheesy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22066963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatsuna/pseuds/hatsuna
Summary: Akaashi Keiji would not consider himself a party person, let alone an extroverted person. If anything, he’s more of the type to recharge alone, sitting in bed with a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other. And he didn't have any issues with that—really, he didn't. His friends, however, did. They’d insisted on dragging Akaashi out to a last minute New Year’s Eve party at some friend of a friend’s house, and Akaashi, already drained from cleaning his apartment all day, had accepted his fate.(Or: Akaashi already doesn't want to be at this party, and he really doesn't want to be there once the power goes out. But maybe the stranger who trips and ends up sitting beside him will make the party worthwhile.)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 14
Kudos: 322





	new year's kiss

**Author's Note:**

> hi, all! back on my bokuakaa bs because, ah, i love them! this is a new year's eve fic inspired by a prompt a saw on twitter from @aobaseijoh. check them out! as always, thank you for reading, and i hope you enjoy!

Akaashi Keiji would not consider himself a party person, let alone an extroverted person. If anything, he’s more of the type to recharge alone, sitting in bed with a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other. And he didn't have any issues with that—really, he didn't. His friends, however, did. They’d insisted on dragging Akaashi out to a last minute New Year’s Eve party at some friend of a friend’s house, and Akaashi, already drained from cleaning his apartment all day, had accepted his fate.

Which is why he was currently sitting cross-legged in the very corner of an excessively large couch, willing his body to sink into the cushions so he can truly disappear from the chaotic atmosphere. The music was too loud and the flashing lights were too bright and Akaashi just wanted to go home. He considered it for a moment, but inevitably shook his head when he saw the friends he’d come with dancing drunkenly. Someone had to make sure they got home safely, and Akaashi, who’d only been sipping on one beer the whole night, knew that he was “someone.”

He scrolled absentmindedly through his phone, checking the time every few minutes. 

Fourteen minutes to midnight. He could do this. Fourteen minutes until he could start asking his friends if they could leave.

In an instant, the colorful scenery of the party around Akaashi muted to mere shadows. He scanned the dark room, trying to figure out what had happened.

“Bro, I think you just killed the power,” a voice called from somewhere in the room over.

“Ah, shit, you’re right. Sorry, everyone!” came the reply of whoever must have been the party’s host.

Akaashi groaned. He really didn’t need to be sitting in a random person’s house, and now he was sitting in the dark in a random person’s house.

Slowly, the buzz of the party returned, as animated voices continued conversations and a few phone screens provided dim light. Akaashi winced at the sound of people bumping into one another, and more than once he heard groans when they presumably hit their legs on the coffee table in front of him. 

Ten minutes to midnight, Akaashi was startled by a long string of curse words as another guest smacked their leg into the coffee table. He was even more startled when the guest tripped over the table, landing on the couch beside Akaashi with an unceremonious grunt, nearly crushing him.

“Oh my god, my shin,” hissed the fallen guest, who Akaashi noted was definitely a guy, based on the low timbre of his voice and the way the couch cushions dipped under the new weight.

Akaashi turned off his phone. “Uhm, are you alright?” he asked the blob beside him.

The man shifted to sit up properly. Akaashi could sense he was now face-to-face with him, but he could make out little more than the vague outline of his figure.

“Oh, wow, I didn’t even notice you there,” the voice began, which Akaashi couldn’t blame him for, given his whole trying-to-become-one-with-the-couch position. “But, uh, yeah, I think I’m okay.” Akaashi could tell the man was rubbing his shin. “My leg just hurts like fucking bitch now.”

Akaashi fought back the urge to chuckle, but a little noise spilled out regardless. The mystery man must have taken this as an invitation to strike up a conversation because he started to talk into the general direction of Akaashi.

“So, what are you doing all alone? I have a feeling you’re sitting like you want the couch to eat you,” mystery man asked, the lilt of amusement in his tone unmistakable.

“I’m not really one for parties,” Akaashi offered lamely, shifting in the couch corner.

“Oh, okay,” was all the reply he was given.

Normally Akaashi would have been satisfied—thankful, even—that the conversation had come to a natural stop. He was never really one for small talk, finding it a waste of both time and effort since it was often clear that neither party was actually curious in knowing much about the other. But for some reason, perhaps the fact that it was six minutes to midnight and his year had already been shit, Akaashi pushed to keep the flow going.

“Well, I was kind of dragged here with some of my teammates. They love parties and really wanted me to come, even though they know it’s not my thing.”

“Teammates?” the voice said inquisitively. “What team, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“My old high school volleyball team.”

“Hey, hey, hey! You play volleyball too? What position?”

Akaashi was surprised by the warmth that spread through his veins when he heard how excited the mystery man next to him was. The fervor struck him as a partial naiveté, but altogether, it was endearing. “I’m a setter, but I don’t play on a team anymore,” Akaashi said.

“Woah, no way! I’m a wing spiker for the university team! We should totally play together sometime; I bet we’d be great!” There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in the voice.

It surprised Akaashi that mystery man was so passionate about volleyball he’d propose playing with a total stranger. “With all due respect, I don’t even know you.”

“Oh, shoot, you’re right!” the voice said, as though a switch had been flipped. “Bokuto Koutarou. Nice to meet you!” 

Akaashi could tell a hand had been thrust forward, and he shook it politely. “Akaashi Keiji. And likewise.”

The jolt of electricity Akaashi felt when his hand lingered on Bokuto’s a few moments too long was stifling. He coughed, hoping to alleviate some of the sudden, suffocating heat. Bokuto seemed to notice this, but he still took his time to slink his hand back.

“Anyways,” Bokuto began, steadily picking up the flow of conversation again, “why don’t you like parties, Akaashi?”

It took a few moments for Akaashi to regain his composure to respond, in contrast to Bokuto who had jumped right back into conversation as if there were springs beneath his words. Akaashi had always envied people like that, people who were personable, natural conversationalists. Akaashi didn’t understand how they could be so… vulnerable. The thought of speaking up first or sometimes even returning a question, regardless of how shallow the topic, made Akaashi’s skin crawl. The risk of rejection didn’t seem worth it to him. 

This time, however, part of Akaashi’s skin crawling might have been from the way Bokuto had said his name so casually, as if he’d been saying it for years. 

“I guess I’m just not the social type,” Akaashi settled with saying. “I prefer to be alone.”

“So you’re one of the more quiet, lonely guys.”

Akaashi frowned. “No, not lonely. Just alone. I tend to be more productive that way anyways.”

“Ah, Akaashi, I bet you’re a finishes-his-homework-the-day-it’s-assigned kind of guy,” Bokuto said, and Akaashi could practically feel the ridicule radiating from the man.

“Well, you really like to make me seem like a loser,” Akaashi huffed, crossing his arms.

“Am I wrong?”

“... No.”

Beside him, Bokuto chuckled. “Don’t worry, Akaashi, I don’t think you’re a loser. Otherwise I wouldn’t be talking to you,” he said matter-of-factly.

Akaashi sighed. Tentatively, he asked, “Why _are_ you talking to me, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I guess it beats stumbling around in the living room or leaning against the crowded counter awkwardly. A little more comfortable, less imposing.”

“I get that. I’d much rather just be at home eating toshikoshi soba than here.”

“I’d definitely rather be here than at home.”

“Why?” Akaashi asked, interest piqued.

“Because then I wouldn’t be sitting next to you, Akaashi.”

Akaashi wondered if he really deserved the title of responsible drinker among his friend group, because his entire head was buzzing after that one beer. He swore it was NOT because Bokuto’s hand was now resting on his thigh, as if it belonged there and nowhere else.

“O-oh.” Akaashi cursed his voice for breaking.

But just as quickly as it was there, Bokuto’s hand was gone. Akaashi couldn’t tell if he was pleased or disappointed by the loss of warmth, of touch.

“Anyways,” Bokuto began again, “I’ve always liked New Year’s Eve, with the whole idea of rebirth and prosperity in the new year. And all the traditions around it are comforting.”

Akaashi knew what Bokuto meant. He’d spent the entire day cleaning his apartment, would visit the shrine to pray in the next few days, and when he slept tomorrow night, he’d be sure to try and revolve his dreams around fans and eggplants. While Akaashi couldn’t make it home this year, the traditions he’d been raised with were ingrained in him, and he assumed Bokuto was the same way.

“But the couples’ superstitions are a little annoying. I mean, you can never try them if you’re single!” Bokuto lamented. “Kind of takes away from the fun of the night, right?”

Akaashi had to agree with that. He nodded, before realizing he was sitting in the dark, but Bokuto seemed to have felt it because he continued talking.

“Yeah, like there’s this one couples’ superstition-”

Bokuto launched into a full background story about where he’d first heard of the superstition, and how he’d always wanted to try it but had chickened out of it, or hadn’t been with the right person, or had fallen asleep before midnight (Akaashi raised a hand to his mouth to weakly muffle a laugh at that one).

“-and so if you kiss the person at exactly midnight, you’ll supposedly be together for the new year! Wouldn’t that be nice?” Bokuto finished, longing laced in his voice. 

Akaashi considered this. He’d been single for a long time. All of the dates he’d been on in the past three and a half years of university had been miscellaneous and detached, rarely leading to any desire for a real relationship. The one-night stands had amounted to even less. Akaashi wanted to keep living as if he were a high schooler with infinite time to sort out his future, but lately, the stress about the closing window to find someone to settle down with was intense. Everything in life needed to follow this perfect time frame idealized by society, and Akaashi knew that if stepped out of line, he’d be deemed a failure. Time was of the essence, but commitment was hard to come by in college. 

“Yes,” Akaashi said after a thoughtful pause, “that would be nice, Bokuto-san.”

“Hey, hey, hey! Say, Akaashi, should we try it?” Bokuto asked mischievously. “There’s only a minute to midnight.”

Akaashi didn’t know how, but he just knew Bokuto was wiggling his eyebrows obnoxiously.

Maybe it was because Akaashi couldn’t imagine a voice with such charming naivety to be dangerous; or because the darkness shrouding the room made him feel like he was under a warm weighted blanket; or because his entire body was still tingling from when Bokuto’s hand had touched his thigh minutes ago; or perhaps it was because his year had honestly been uneventful and he was desperate to escape the hamster wheel of normalcy his life had become. But whatever the reason behind it, Akaashi was still astounded when he found himself saying, “Yeah, let’s try it.”

Time simultaneously moved at the speed of light and in slow motion for the next forty-six seconds. Akaashi could feel his stomach drop, and his confidence with it. Who was he kidding? He’d just agreed to kiss a random stranger. All he knew about the man was his last name (embarrassingly enough, his first name had already slipped Akaashi’s mind), that he spoke too fast and excitedly about things that shouldn’t have been that fast or exciting, and that he was a wing spiker in college—overall, this was next to nothing. _I’m crazy_ , Akaashi briefly thought to himself, _fucking crazy_. 

But maybe, for once in his calm, calculated life, Akaashi needed crazy.

The conversations of other party guests he’d been tuning out while talking with Bokuto slowly crescendoed as the countdown to midnight began. The drunken party voices were surprisingly even. 

_“Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight…”_

Akaashi felt his heart pounding in his chest. Trying to calm it was inane.

_“Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…”_

A hand moved to rest on Akaashi’s thigh.

_“Ten, nine, eight…”_

The mysterious wing spiker that spoke too fast and excitedly about things that shouldn’t have been so fast and exciting was leaning towards him.

_“Four, three, two…”_

Akaashi gave a final deep breath.

_“One.”_

He closed the distance between them.

The first thought that crossed Akaashi’s mind was that the first thing he was doing in the new year was kissing Bokuto. The second thought that crossed his mind was that he didn’t mind kissing him. In fact, he liked it. A lot. Akaashi had been expecting for there to be more tension, more hesitation, and more bumping noses considering the lighting, or lack thereof. But Bokuto’s mouth slotted in with his easily, as if it had been there dozens of times. And while the kiss had been an entirely spur of the moment decision, it was the first time in years that Akaashi had felt a kiss had meaning. 

Bokuto’s lips were soft but firm against his, his hand still on Akaashi’s thigh. Akaashi reached out to wrap his arms around Bokuto’s neck, feeling himself flush at the new proximity. He hadn’t realized his lips had parted until he felt Bokuto’s tongue cautiously slide between them. Normally Akaashi would have squirmed against the action, probably pulled away and smacked whoever he was kissing, but he didn’t mind it when it was Bokuto. He was beginning to see motif that “normal” would have to be redefined when it came to Bokuto. Akaashi sighed into the kiss, deepening it, holding back the moan that threatened to spill from his lips.

Eventually, both of them pulled away, panting, words caught in their throats.

“Wow,” Bokuto began breathlessly, “that was-”

“Better than expected,” Akaashi finished for him.

“Well, I was going to say ‘amazing,’ but suit yourself, I guess,” Bokuto said.

Akaashi felt his lips quirk up into a smile. They both laughed breathlessly. Akaashi was laughing too much and yet it still wasn’t enough. He couldn’t remember the laugh time he’d laughed so carelessly. 

He was pulled out of his beatific trance by Bokuto tugging on his wrist.

“Come on, let’s go watch the fireworks through one of the windows!” he said excitedly.

While the idea seemed like the icing on the cake to a surprisingly nice, last-minute first kiss, Akaashi quickly read between the lines. By a window meant light from the city flooding in, farther from the dark of couch corner. He was sure the fireworks would illuminate his surroundings as well, particularly the face of the man he’d just been kissing, and his own. Bokuto wanted to see him. Leaving the couch meant shattering the ignorant bliss and reattaching to reality, where looks were more important than they should have been.

“Akaashi, don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Then why are we still sitting down?”

And with the gentle encouragement, Akaashi stood up with Bokuto, letting himself be tugged through the house into a room which would presumably have windows. All the while, Akaashi’s legs felt like jelly, as though if he stopped moving he’d immediately melt into a puddle of anxiety. He halted with Bokuto in the middle of a mostly empty room, neither of them daring to move closer to the large windows on the opposite wall. But when he felt a tug on his wrist from Bokuto, Akaashi knew it was time. They approached the window. Akaashi rested his hands on the sill, admiring the plethora of colors that were painting the sky. Unlike the party lights, the fireworks were more calming than nauseating.

Akaashi was acutely aware of the man next to him, and slowly he turned his head to finally face him. Bokuto was already looking at him, lips parted and eyes wide. Akaashi hadn’t had any expectations of what Bokuto would look like, and yet the man somehow surpassed all of them. He wasn’t much taller than Akaashi—probably only an inch or two—but the welcoming aura he gave off made him seem larger than life. He was toned, _which is to be expected for a volleyball player, idiot_ , Akaashi tried to remind himself. But wow, those broad shoulders clad in a form-fitting white long sleeve left little to Akaashi’s imagination. Bokuto’s hair was black and gray and spiked, which Akaashi normally wasn’t into, but it worked on him. What captivated Akaashi’s attention most though were those piercing, golden eyes, staring at him as though he were the last person on earth.

“Akaashi, you’re beautiful,” Bokuto breathed.

Akaashi blushed at the compliment, twiddling his fingers. Then, with his most deadpan expression, he replied, “I guess you’re not too bad yourself.”

Bokuto raised his eyebrows before he processed the dry humor. And then they were both laughing again, eyes squeezed shut, touching each other way more than was required for a small giggle spell.

When all the tittering had exited from Akaashi’s system, he looked up at Bokuto shyly. “Bokuto-san-”

“Koutarou. You can call me Koutarou.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “ _Bokuto-san_ ,” he said again, this time with more confidence, “I hope we can stay together for this new year.”

Bokuto smiled. “I hope so too. Bringing up that cheesy New Year’s Eve tradition might have been the best thing to happen to me.”

Heat crept up Akaashi’s neck as he remembered the feeling of Bokuto’s mouth against his.

“But maybe we should kiss again, ‘Kaashi, you know, just in case the first one didn’t work.”

And then he was kissing Bokuto Koutarou again, but it felt just as special as the first time, butterflies still fluttering in his stomach, blush still still staining his nose and cheeks. The fireworks that illuminated the world outside the window were nothing in comparison to the ones exploding in Akaashi’s chest.

**Author's Note:**

> side note: i'm japanese-american, so this fic honestly combines both traditional japanese and american new year's ideas about it and celebrations around it! anyways, thank you for reading! i hope you all have an amazing 2020 :)
> 
> come talk to me on [twitter!](https://mobile.twitter.com/hahahatsuna)


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